Armor and Skin
by ObscuroMeNot
Summary: AU/Post Final Battle. Hermione Granger, left behind after a crippling defeat during the final battle, takes matters into her own hands. "My heart was pounding louder than the rain. 'You can do this. You can do this.' My mantra. I glanced up to molten silver pools, my name is Hermione Granger, and I'm drowning." DM/HG
1. Chapter 1

**Armor and Skin by ObscuroMeNot**

Chapter 1

* * *

My heart was pounding louder than the rain.

_'You can do this. You can do this.'_ My mantra.

I glanced up to molten silver pools, my name is Hermione Granger, and I'm drowning.

* * *

September was uncharacteristically cold, laced with a sharpness that froze the breath in your lungs. Hermione pulled her cloak closer to her body, trudging through the snow at a quicker rate than the rest of the crowd.

She reached the massive doors of Hogwarts with a sigh of relief, the dementors around the grounds, swooped and swallowed up early frail ounce of warmth that tried to break through the atmosphere. Hermione studied them with an intense look before closing the doors behind her.

Hogwarts was not the same glowing sanctuary she once knew, bruises of the Final Battle were etched into the very walls. Every step she took held a painful reminder of the following years tragedies. She, unlike most, had returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year, even if it was only a shadow of what it used to be. She made her way to her private room, one privvy to the '8th year' students who decided to return. The room was a blessing, she needed all the privacy she could get since the books she carried under her arms were titles the restricted section would glower at.

Truth was, Hermione Granger was not the same girl she used to be.

She doubled checked her wards, clarifying that she was truly alone, before removing her cloak. The deep satin article hit the ground with a plopping wet sound, weight should have been lifted from her shoulders, yet they felt as if they still weighed a ton. She kicked off her shoes with a inconsistency that would make her old self shudder, and gasped her way to the connecting bathroom, nevermind the red droplets that mirrored her path.

Her skin crawled, every ounce of will power she had was crumbling faster than her tub could fill with water. She felt the sharp sting of tears threatening her vision, and sunk under the water before she could find out if they fell.

* * *

The light was dim in Knockturn Alley, ever since Harry Potter's defeat nothing seemed warm anymore, she tried not to think of how out of her mind she was. This was suicide, she was an idiot. Even the blood in her veins felt heavy. She wore a complexed glamour charm which allowed her free range in the normally forbidden area. At first she thought they would catch her right away, smell the weakness radiating from her. It wasn't until she passed Yaxley and Greyback without a second glance did she find a new hope within her plan.

Ron and Harry had gone into hiding, _without her,_ she tried to recall without the horrible sense of abandonment she felt. They decided they must have missed a horcrux, something must have gone wrong, both Harry and Voldemort escaped the battle with their lives, yet the Dark Lord himself held a strong hold over the Wizarding World. The Order and Harry both at a loss for where to go from there, whisked the boys away, leaving Hermione with Professor McGonagall to form a strong front at the weakening hold of Hogwarts. She pressed her back into the stone as another group of Death Eaters exited the pub she had been standing outside of. One of them wolf whistled at her glamoured form, as her bouncing blonde hair was revealed from under her hood when rushing past.

She had prepared for the bright light that accompanied most pubs, but this one was lit with a fitting array of dim black candles suspended from the air. Charmed vultures glared down from their posts upon the rim of the ceiling.

_Sit down, Hermione._ She scolded herself. _Order a Firewhiskey, act natural._

She nonchalantly sat into a creeking barstool and bellied up to the dark granite ordering a double glass of Firewhiskey on the rocks. She waved her hand under the bar, placing a modified wandless Sonorus on the back corner of the bar where her targets sat. She listened quietly, occasionally clinking her ice against the edge of her glass, taking mental notes before her attention was stolen.

"You look like a tiny beacon of light in this darkness." A figure sat down next to her, and playfully tossed a strand of her blonde hair over her shoulder. Hermione froze, her brain automatically kicking into overdrive. Blaise Zabini smirked at her, "Mind telling me your name, Love?"

Before Hermione could open her mouth, Theodore Nott joined them, sloshing two overflowing mugs of Dark Ale onto the bar.

"Who do we have here, Zabini?" He asked, heavy lidded eyes trying to focus on Hermione's glamoured form. Blaise grimmaced and steadied his friend.

"Well if you would kindly sod off, I would have figured that off by now." He raised an eyebrow at Hermione, but Theodore picked up no clues.

"I think he fancies you-"

"Farrah." Hermione quickly spit out, wondering how in the hell she thought of that off the tip of her tongue.

Blaise and Theodore's curiosity rose at the mention of her foreign name. Blaise leaned in close to her, Hermione fought the urge to pull back.

"Ah, Miss Farrah. Do you have a surname? Gods know we only take to certain...kinds, around here." Theodore snorted a drunken laugh into his mug.

"Blaise had to kill the last slag he picked up, found out she was a mudblood mid-" He didn't get to finish his story, Blaise had whipped him over the back of the head with his palm, shooting him a deadly glare. Hermione prayed to whatever god that was listening that she didn't show fear.

"Farrah VanArleston." She said, slipping into her role of primed and perfect Pureblood. She extended a graceful hand. "I'm visiting, I recently graduated from Drumstrang. My father wanted me to get more involved with.. the cause." She dropped her voice over the last of her words, hoping neither of them were too daft to pick up her hints.

"VanArleston? You say." Blaise took a sip of his Ale. "Very old family, I wasn't aware they had such...young blood in their line."

Hermione mentally clenched, knowing she should have picked a different Surname over the millions she had memorized.

"My father wanted to keep me under the radar," She lied between her teeth, "He wanted to make sure I was perfectly ready to serve our Lord." Blaise's eyes darkened as he ran a hand subconsciously over his own Dark mark.

"A wise father you have. Why isn't he here with you? I don't know many whom would so proudly leave their kin unaccompanied for their first reveal." He studied her with a look only acquired by practice.

Hermione looked towards the floor, faking sadness, then raised her chin eyes filled with a new fire.

"My family was killed by the resistance in France, I've been making my way slowly to London by myself. It's hard...knowing who to-" She paused looking at them both "trust."

Nott clicked his tongue.

"Ahh, to be so young again."

"I'm Nineteen." She rebutted.

"You're white, pure as snow, clean as-" Nott was cut off again by Blaise but this time with a silencing hex.

"Enough Nott, you're beginning to sound like an idiot. I hope the Dark Lord Crucio's you fifty times for your insolent behavior." Blaise hissed. Hermione straightened her back in her chair.

"You don't think you both could accompany me tonight? Would you? I have no one else."

Blaise stood, his form towering over her, and extended his hand.

"Miss VanArleston, it would be my pleasure to bring you to the Dark Lord."

* * *

Hermione took his hand, every nerve in her body screaming at her to abort her mission. She met his eyes, nodding. He didn't notice it was no longer blue eyes that starred back at him but her original amber fire.

Hermione had never experienced such pain, never in her life had she pulled such focus from her magic to keep her glamour charm up while a thousand poison coated knives drilled into her skin. She imagined the Cruciatus curse was painful but never to this degree, never this horrible, every part of her skin was on fire. She swore her internal organs were melting. She had to keep the charm up, any slip now would surely cause her immediate death.

The looming figure of Voldemort raised over her, lowering himself down to her level to lift her chin with a ghastly cold hand.

"Look at me, child." He ordered, Hermione swore the words slithered over her skin. She opened her eyes and fought another involuntary shudder. "You did so well, perhaps you are indeed worthy to join the cause." She wanted to cheer with the small victory but found no energy, instead she kept her mind projecting fake images of her imaginary life. Tea parties in the garden with a elegant witch, lavish ballroom parties till the early hours of the morning, her imaginary father preaching to her about the Death Eaters and his theories of dirty blood.

"Yes-s. My Lord." She cooed out with a determined affection. "Let me help you bring victory to our side." She nuzzled her face into his hand. "Once and for all." Voldemort threw her weight back onto the floor.

"Bring me back the hearts of a filthy muggle family when we meet next. I want them to still beat warm with the life you stole in the honor of your Lord." He hissed the order, Hermione felt her stomach roll with protest, but she kept her eyes down.

"Anything you wish, My Lord." Hermione heard a sick giggle that could only belong to one sadistic mad woman. Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You're so kind, My Lord." She roughly came up to pet Hermione's blonde curls, her monstrous rings snagging in her hair, tearing strands from her scalp. Hermione took this time to use her remaining willpower to scan her surroundings. She felt a heavy stare barring into her form and turned to meet a familiar face.

Draco Malfoy's eyes burned into her, his lips set in a permanent scowl she knew so well from her younger years. She met his eyes and he sneered, turning his attention back to Voldemort speaking to his Aunt. Hermione crawled her way next to Nott and Zabini whom didn't offer her help up, but didn't move or protest when her weight shifted against his.

The meeting ended with Voldemort disappearing in a cloud of heavy black smoke. The death eaters spoke among each other quietly, eyeing her with interest. She hadn't been proven to them yet, but she was still a blood line of Respect.

Zabini rested his hand on the small of her back, pushing her towards the stone entrance.

"Come now, Farrah. You'll need to rest." Hermione wanted to fall to the floor and cry, her mental shields screaming to crumble, her body felt like a battlefield.

The room was a still blanket of lingering grey smoke, perhaps thats why no one noticed when Farrah's hair gave away to a darker shade of blonde, and her eyes suddenly appeared deeper in color.

Draco Malfoy stepped forward and fingered the brunette strands of hair he picked up from the ground, rolling them over in his hand, his eyes never leaving the woman who stood with a shaking form between Nott and Zabini.

Hermione steadied herself against the enemy, willing herself to keep going, that she could almost feel the warmth of her fireplace in her room. She just had to make the charm hold long enough to get back to the castle.

She hissed inbetween her teeth as a somewhat sober Nott roughly grabbed her hand for side along apparition. The last thing Hermione saw before she felt that nauseating tug from her stomach was a raging storm among a sea of gray.

* * *

**AN: Well, There's the first chapter! Hopefully it's a new spin on an older plot. This fic will be rated M for dark themes and later chapters. No fluff here, folks! Let me know what you think!**

**As always, **

**OMN**


	2. Chapter 2

**Armor and Skin by ObscuroMeNot**

* * *

Chapter Two - The Devil's Backbone

_"Granger."_

Hermione woke to sweat-soaked sheets, her mind felt like it was burning, the edges of every thought were on fire. She winced as she sat up, attempting to ignore the throb in her rib cage. She had studied up on the after affects of the Circiatus curse and had a multitude of potions at her disposal to help calm her aches. Uncorking the Ache-Ease potion, with half asleep actions, she wondered if she should pair it with some muggle ibuprofen.

_Muggle._

She shook the previous nights events from her head, she refused to dwell on her plan when she only had thirty minutes to get to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was time to be Hermione Granger: book worm, boring, know-it-all, third member of the Golden Trio.

She eased her way from her lifted bed, cautiously as her pain potion kicked in. She slowly made her way to her vanity and ran a brush through her untamed hair. Her eyes fell on her bracelet; A silver tennis bracelet with purple amethyst. She had spend all Summer cultivating every corner of her plan, the bracelet channeled her magic to focus on one spell. Her glamour was only the only way she could infiltrate the death eaters. She couldn't walk in as Hermione Granger, _Mudblood,_ and even be remotely hopeful to live to take another breath.

So she did what she does best, she studied, she practiced every Pureblood tradition, knew every lineage back to the olden times, she sculpted the perfect alias. VanArleston, a Nordic line only worthy of the sun-caress blond hair, and summer sky blue eyes she glamoured. Her skin changed into a snowy-pale, much different than her normally warm tones. She looked into the mirror, trying to remember Farrah. She reached out and touched the glass, her palm pressed against it before she sighed. Shoving the bracelet into her jewelry box, she grabbed her school books, straightening her school uniform skirt and headed to the hall.

* * *

"Hermione." Dean Thomas waved his hand in front of her face. "Earth to Hermione." Hermione blinked rapidly, a fork of scrambled eggs half way up to her mouth and focused on Dean.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I was thinking of the Potions assignment, I can't believe I only have one-hundred and twenty-six lines, I know the minimu-"

"Woah, It's okay!" He chuckled and stopped her long banter about home work. "I just wonder if you heard from them." His lips fell into a stern line. Hermione sighed and sadly shook her head, glancing up at Headmistress McGonagall who seemed tired even for her age. The war had aged everyone. There were days when Hermione herself felt seventy-five years old.

"Well if you do," He started again in between bites of his bread pudding, "Will you let them know we're still rooting for them?" Hermione nodded her head head vigorously and went back to her now cold eggs. The Great Hall started to clear out as everyone prepared for their morning classes. She watched her plate disappear in front of her, then gathered her books.

* * *

She walked achingly out of the Great Hall cursing herself through the corridors for not doubling up on the pain relief potion. With every step her body felt heavier and she fought physical tremors. She tried focusing on the cobblestone floor and counted the steps until she could collapse into a classroom chair for temporary relief.

Her steps stalled when she crashed into a solid object. She profusely started to apologize without looking up and gathered the papers that had scattered to the ground.

"You're even more pathetic without your body guards, Granger."

His voice shot through her head. She paused, then slowly raised to the ground, her brows set in a defiant glare.

"You would happen to know about body guards wouldn't you, Malfoy? You seem to be missing dumb and dumber." She sneered back with equal contempt. She wondered why he was even back in school so obviously being on the Dark side. Hermione held her ground, and Draco searched for any physical flaw in her demeanor. His quick eyes moved over her body, besides a bit of ragged breath Granger seemed to be Granger.

"Perhaps if you cut that god-awful bush on your head you wouldn't be toppling all over the place. Just food for thought." He said and pushed past her, his shoulder connecting harshly with hers.

"Careful, Malfoy. You wouldn't want any dirty blood on your precious clothes." She hissed and fought the internal pain that rocketed through her body.

Draco paused long enough to spare a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Oh Granger, haven't your heard? Such implied words are forbidden. Careful, I wouldn't want to have to inform a Professor of your ill language." A smirk graced his lips with a perfect curl, as he disappeared behind the curve of the hall.

Hermione bit her lip in pain, and willed herself into her Transfiguration classroom.

* * *

Draco rubbed Hermione Granger's hair between his fingers. The chit hadn't even been aware he plucked it from her bushy head, his eyes narrowed and he pushed the strands into a empty vial. Something was going on, he could feel it, and Draco Malfoy never liked being out of the know.

He shoved the vial into his cloak pocket and sneered at the thought of attending class. McGonagall had barely let him back in, his father had sworn indifference when it came to allegiances, even though there was a mountain of evidence stating otherwise. McGonagall agreed only on the wings of Dumbledore's pleas of redemption for the young Malfoy before his death. The Dark Lord agreed that having a look out inside the school for any resistance acts was a plausible idea. So the young Malfoy was stuck attending classes as if the student body wasn't plotting his death, as if there wasn't a war going on outside the gates.

He could think of a million other things he'd rather be doing, figuring out who the mysterious Farrah VanArleston is was on the top of his list, and if his intuition was correct, he would soon find out.

* * *

The day was dreadfully long, Hermione couldn't recall the last time she had trouble attempting to stay awake in class. Even her lunch time dose of Pepper-Up potion in her Pumpkin Juice barely had an effect on her withering stamina. The throbbing in her side had lulled to a dull ache over time, but it took all her willpower to fight the tremors that threatened to shake her body on an hourly basis.

She entered her room with a sigh of relief, cherishing the golden silence and the warm glow of her fireplace. Her book bag slumped off her shoulder with a defeated plop on her sofa, and she no sooner joined it with the same sound.

The flames roared with life, battling against the coldness that loomed over the day. The sun had just begun to set casting a frail pattern of light through her scarlet curtains. She sighed again, reflecting on her recent dark activities. Her thoughts leap to her bracelet and the consequences of wearing it.

_'I really should strengthen the spell,'_ She thought,_ 'It must have really been exhausted the other night.'_

_Aparecium._ She muttered, tapping her want against the jewelry box as a small drawer appeared under the red lining. The purple stones gleamed in the light, twinkling with a magical essence. Hermione waved her wand over the piece of jewelry in a complicated twisting pattern diagnosing it's magical strength.

_'Just as I thought.'_ She furrowed her eyebrows. _'Almost depleted.' _

Biting her lip in concentration, Hermione set-forth the spells necessary to bring the jewelry back to it's full glory. It really was a amazing spell, something she knew she was proud of, no matter the reason she needed the spell to work. She couldn't help but be proud that she was fully capable of such strong magic.

_'Dark magic.'_ She scolded herself. _'Grey magic.'_ She then reasoned with herself. '_It has no harming abilities.'_ No matter how she tried to read between the lines, Hermione knew she was playing with fire. She was the holding the flint above the grey steal.

_Grey. _Silver. His Eyes.

Hermione thought back to the previous night; How easily Draco Malfoy fit into the black hooded, mask-clad group. A loyal follower, a powerful wizard. A victim of his environment. Her attention turned back as the bracelet showered the room in a bright lilac haze, signaling it's refreshed cycle.

She had barely closed her jewelry box when a tapping noise came from her window. Hermione jumped at the noise, and saw a enormous black owl waiting patiently. For a split second she hoped it was a word from Ron or Harry, but the royal green wax seal gleaming from the parchment attached to the owl's leg quickly diminished that hope.

With shaking hands she unraveled the parchment, absentmindedly feeding the owl a pellet. The script wasn't one she recongized, but there was only one person who would be owling her at nearly sundown, her pulse raced.

_Miss Farrah,_

_I hope you are recovering well from last night's activities. He request your presence with his gift on the ninth hour of the moon, two weeks from today. Please also consider my invitation to the Midnight Gala at the Malfoy Residence in France on Saturday. I would be honored if you would accompany me on my arm. I've attached a portkey you'll need to access the grounds should you desire, I'll meet you at the fountain around 9pm. I am looking forward to being in your company once more._

_With honor and respect,_

_BZ_

Hermione gripped the edge of her desk, her nails biting painfully into the old oak. When she planned this journey she knew she'd be required of unspeakable acts, that she'd probably see and hear things no one in their lifetime should experience. It's why she spent the Summer readying herself, studying occlumency. Preparing her soul for the blackness that was sure to fill the cracks. She steadied herself with a ragged breath, trying to calm her racing heart. There were no books that could have ever prepared herself for this.

She made her way to the bathroom, ignoring the stack of homework she still needed to do for next month. The Professors had already become accustomed to her work ethic in her seven previous years, giving her the course outline so she could work ahead. It was never truly a blessing until now when her mind was other places more dangerous than Care of Magical Creatures.

The Calming Draught was calling her name, she decided to mix it with a Dreamless Sleep potion. She didn't need to see the faceless family in her dreams again, the ones she would untimingly bring to their death. She fell into slumber with dried tears on her cheeks.

* * *

Draco paced the second floor foyer of Malfoy Manner. He hated the sound his dress shoes made on the porcelain tile, but he couldn't get himself to stand still for more than a moment. The whole night had him on edge, dressed in his finest emerald green dress robes he scoffed at his reflection. He could hear his Mother entertaining the first of the arriving guests in the ballroom. Her laughter rang through the hallway like bells, he always knew when she was putting on a front. Tonight, dressed in the finest silk her personal designer could find, she was every bit in the role of Death Eater Royalty.

He rolled his eyes at the noise, and opened the wide iron decorated doors to the balcony, perhaps fresh air could ease whatever seemed to be suffocating his demeanor. The moon was high in the sky and blood red. He could sense the trickle of dark magic from the nearly unbreakable wards around the Manor, the feeling made his skin crawl. He leaned over the banister, surveying the incoming crowd. Every Death Eater from the the lowest to the highest ranks would be here tonight, unassumingly to gloat about the hold they had over London and surrounding areas. Draco didn't want any part of the politics, it was messy, he was skirting a lifetime in Azkaban as it was, he wasn't looking forward to adding anymore fuel to that fire.

A familiar outline caught his attention near the fountain. The champagne blonde hair was delicately swept into an elaborate updo, diamond earrings dangling from pale ear lobes, caught the moonlight. Her cheeks were flushed and her body conforming sweetheart pink robes glimmered with her movement. His eyes narrowed.

* * *

_'What the bloody hell.' _

_He tried the diagnostics spell over the strands of hair again. They would gleam and sizzle, yet the results would come out unreadable over his first collected specimen. The image of Hermione Granger hologramed over the second set, that wasn't a surprise. He clenched his teeth wondering why the identity wouldn't show. _

_'Fuck.' He gritted his teeth, perhaps he was mistaken, he tried the spell again with more focus. This time the first set of hair shown brightly as the golden form of Farrah VanArleston appeared next to Granger's hologram. _

_Draco tossed his wand in frustration. _

_'Fuck it all to hell.' _

_He didn't trust her, something about the mysterious VanArleston's eyes gave her away. Some flicker of fear, something deep called to him. He thought the third member of the Golden Trio would be so incredibly daft as to attempt to join the ranks of the Dark Lord's followers. Perhaps he was wrong. The Mudblood did after all have some sense in that know-it-all brain of hers._

_He starred at the two holograms and waved his hand, vanishing them with a sweeping motion. _

_Who ever she was, she was strong. That strong of magic doesn't 'fly 'under the radar' as Theodore Nott had informed him over their weekly meeting over a bottomless bottle of Firewhiskey. _

_Draco Malfoy didn't like mysteries. He didn't enjoy them in the least. He lived in a black and white world. Right and Wrong. Pureblood and Trash. Although he did enjoy a good manhunt, and it seemed that Miss VanArleston would provide him with quite the challenge. _

* * *

"You look ravishing, Farrah." Blaise kissed the back of her hand with a deep bow. He looked quite handsome in the earth toned sepia of his robes. It complimented his skin, and gave him a attractive glow. Hermione almost fought off the blush tinting her cheeks.

"Thank you, Mr. Zabini. It was a kind offer to invite me. I am most gracious." She gave a low curtsy, nodding her head in grace. Most Pureblood traditions ranged back from Medieval times, and Hermione couldn't help but think that their mindset and thoughts weren't the only thing that needed a serious update.

"The pleasure is by far, my own, My Lady. Shall we go in? I hear the wine is the sweetest in the country, a blessing to the lips." He offered her the crook of his arm. She intertwined hers with his and started towards the uniquely decorated French doors of the Manor.

"That sounds wonderful." Hermione pulled her delicate pink glossed lips into a small smile and calmed her inner voice. Tonight had to go without a hitch.

* * *

Blaise wasn't exaggerating, the wine was the best thing Hermione could ever remember going past her lips. It wasn't too sweet and had just the right amount of tart aftertaste. She found it somewhat ironic it was being served at such an event.

With the fading taste on her tongue she excused herself to the bathroom. It gave her a chance to recoup, listen in on others conversation, and double check her glamour charm. Surprisingly she was finding it easier and easier to become Farrah, and leave the Hermione Granger alias for the night. This fact should have frightened her, it should have been a flashing warning sign, something saying she was falling in a bit too deep, but some parts of her welcomed it with open arms. She felt powerful tonight, a elite, eyes followed her across the floor and for once it wasn't because of her _'filthy blood'. _

Hermione exited the bathroom and glanced around the ballroom for Zabini. He was no where to be found in the masses.

"Blaise had to step out for a moment. He had business to attend to. He should be back shortly" Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall, a half empty glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked all of the part of devil's advocate. Hermione hid her surprise at his words, she would pick apart the meaning of them later. Instead she innocently tilted her head to the side. He pulled away from the wall and offered his upturned palm mirroring Blaise's earlier action.

"I don't believe we've formally met, Miss VanArleston. I'm Draco Malfoy." His eyes sparkled with every ounce of seductive practice. Hermione cleared her throat and smiled back.

"Ah, the infamous Malfoy heir. What a honor it is to finally meet you. You have a stunning home."

Draco smirked, this could go a lot easier than planned.

"This ballroom is nothing compared to the gardens. Perhaps you would join me for a stroll while we await the return of Mr. Zabini?"

* * *

The garden was every bit the lavish landscape she imagined it would be. Rows and rows of antique lighted fixtures and exotic flowers graced the stone pathways. Fireflies lit the clear skies above and if this were any other situation, Hermione would deem the place utterly romantic.

Draco had been silent on their walk through the garden, keeping to his own thoughts. She stole a glance to study his demeanor. His pale blonde hair fell slightly over his eyes, long forgotten was the slicked back do. His pointed features filled out his face well now that he had grown into them. His shoulders were broad on a lean frame, reminding Hermione very much of an Olympic swimmer. She couldn't deny Draco Malfoy was handsome, any warm blooded female couldn't deny that fact.

He finally broke the silence.

"How are you feeling?"

She wondered if she looked frail, or if he felt her body quake under another slight tremor. Her glamoured blue eyes met his silver orbs.

"I am-" She paused for the right word, "Better, I suppose. I would take the pain proudly, any thing to deem myself worthy of our Lord."

Draco nodded at her answer, seeming to understand. They paused their walk as he turned to her.

"That's good to hear. You were very brave, Miss VanArleston." He rose one delicate blonde eyebrow at her. She raised her hand to her lips in a nervous gesture. It must have seemed very innocent of her, Draco gently took her hand and before she knew it she felt his magic slam into her mind.

She barely had time to raise walls and pull every fabricated memory to the forefront of her mind. She wanted to scream, but held fast to his gaze as he ripped through the memories like he was quickly flipping through the pages of a book looking for weakness, looking for cracks, looking for any type of clue to whom and what she was.

But Hermione was a fighter, and she felt her lioness roar at the challenge. She broke his gaze and ripped her wrist out of his grip.

"Do you always attempt mind fuck your guest, Mr. Malfoy?" She hissed through her teeth. His features remained calm, and his voice low.

"I do when it's my job to protect the Dark Lord. We will have no traitors in our midst." He dared her to show fear, he waited for a flinch that never came. Instead her royal blue eyes rolled with a heated fire.

"I am no such thing, Draco Malfoy and you'd be wise to remember that before you attempt another attack on my person again." It was his mistake that he didn't notice her wand was now gripped tightly in her dominate hand. Her stance was defiant, pale nude heels rooted her firmly to the ground. He rose tall against her smaller form opening his mouth to reply when Blaise Zabini cut him off.

"Farrah! There you are. I've been looking all over for you!" He rushed to her side and placed a hand on the small of her back. Hermione was seething on the inside, how dare he try wandless magic on her, and to that strong of extent that would have torn her mind to shreds had she not been the least bit prepared. She attempted a small smile up to Blaise, who didn't seem to notice the tense atmosphere between the two.

"Mr. Malfoy was just showing me around." She leaned into Blaise's arm and Draco nodded in reply.

"You'll have your hands full with that one, Zabini." He smirked at his friend who took it as a compliment. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his now retreating form. Not a moment later, Blaise led her back into the festivities, wondering what task he had to complete, trying not to let the fact that Draco Malfoy could preform a very strong type of wandless magic.

* * *

Draco knew she was a clever witch, perhaps stronger than he first guessed. Her mind was flawlessly organized into everything he expected from a Pureblood witch. Traditional lessons, Makeup, tea dates, the usual. Nothing was amiss, no alter egos, no sub plots. It only irritated him further that Zabini showed up earlier than expected, next time he would make sure the broom closet was barricaded and not just locked.

He slammed another glass of firewhiskey and threw the empty glass into the fire, the night ended without him gaining any useful information, and come tomorrow he would be back at Hogwarts wasting his time. A stress headache pulsed behind his temple and he swore that he felt seventy-nine instead of his youthful nineteen. The clock struck midnight and Draco knew he wouldn't be lucky enough to escape a debrief of the nights events with his father. He uncorked a sober up potion and pressed the opening to his lips, downing the contents in one gulp.

* * *

Hermione knew she should feel lucky that she escaped the night without a encounter with Voldemort or without any further bodily injury. She had to convince Blaise that she was more than capable of escorting herself home without him. She felt magically depleted more often than not these days and knew if she did not watch it she would soon be tiptoeing around the line of magical exhaustion.

Tonight She didn't need any potions to pull her into a dreamless slumber, by the time she hit her Burgundy sheets she was out, and her dreams were blank.

* * *

**AN:** Chapter two is completely! Finally we're building up to the meat of the story! I'm trying to make each chapter longer than it's previous. :) Also, I'm looking for a Beta. I'm so anxious to get this story out to the readers that sometimes things slip past my eye. If you'd be interested in the position to keep this story rolling at a decent speed, please PM me!

Thank you and please let me know how you like it so far!

Always,

OMN


	3. Chapter 3

Armor and Skin

Chapter 3 - A Crack In My Soul

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AN: I'd like to officially thank Supernatural67 for becoming my Beta! Hopefully she'll be able to catch the minor errors before I publish any new chapters! I've been typing on an ancient desktop without spelling/grammar check since my laptop decided to have a unfortunate death. I also would like to thank everyone who has fav/followed so far! I have a good idea where I'd like to take this story and I hope everyone is enjoying the direction so far but I'd love to hear your thoughts/suggestions! Feel free to click that lovely review button and let me know! Till next time you wonderful Dramione shippers!

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Hermione couldn't sit still, her knees bounced under the old wooden Potion's desk, her fingers interlaced and unlaced together. She kept fidgeting, left then right. Finally, with a defeated groan she laid her head down on her arms.

Neville noticed her uncharacteristic movements and patted her shoulder, eyeing the room to see if the Professor had entered yet.

"Oi! Hermione. Everything okay? You seem restless." He studied her sunken form with a furrowed brow, acknowledging another sigh as she raised her body from the desk.

"Yes Neville. I'm fine." She tapped her quill against her parchment. "Just worried that I haven't heard from the boys yet."

Neville smiled reassuringly at his fellow Gryffindor.

"Don't worry, 'Mione. I'm sure they're fine. They always are."

Hermione couldn't find the willpower to return his smile, and gave an uneasy, thin-lipped grin instead. She didn't know if they were fine, Harry and Ron were whisked away so hastily after the Final battle and into hiding. McGonagall had assured her they were okay, just reviewing strategy with the Order and possible theories on the failed battle.

The heavy door slammed open against the stone walls with a loud bang, making her jump. Draco strolled in with Daphne Greengrass, who looked rather flustered. Hermione rolled her eyes at the typical Slytherin behavior and turned her attention to the time.

"I wonder where everyone is." She muttered and flipped to the lesson that was on the board. Neville shook his head.

"Professor Slughorn was missing from the Head table today too. I'm not sure what's going on." Hermione closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose; she felt a serious stress headache beginning to build behind her eyes.

"Just once, Neville. I just want one day where everything goes normal." She muttered rubbing her palms over her face. Neville gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I know, 'Mione. It'll be alright, you'll see." His grin widened. "Who knows, perhaps today will be the day I finally make a flawless potion."

"Right, Longbottom," Draco's voice cut through their conversation. "And today I will also be having tea with the Queen. Do you think she prefers jam on her biscuits?" He sneered with his feet propped up on his desk, reclined in his chair. Neville lowered his head and meekly muttered a reply. Hermione bolted straight up in her seat and whipped her body in Draco's direction.

"Oh bugger off, Malfoy. No one has the time or patience for your shit today."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her words.

"Careful, Granger. Wouldn't want anyone to think the brains of the operation has a dirty mouth to match her-"

Dean Thomas flew out of his seat, wand raised at Draco.

"Shut your filthy fucking mouth, Malfoy. Or I swear to the gods I will make sure your precious Dark Lord has one less faithful follower." Dean was seething, his face red, and body tensed as his fingers curled and uncurled around his wand.

Draco slowly rose from his seat, leaning over his desk to place his face directly in front of Dean's wand.

"Do it, Thomas. Strike me dead. You don't have the fucking balls." His voice was low and dripping with spite. Each syllable was drawn out with the promise of retribution. Dean's face was etched with a deep scowl, words about to form on his lips until Hermione pressed his arm down.

"He's not worth your magic," She started, glaring at Draco, "or the time in Azkaban." Dean barely budged.

"I would only be keeping his cell warm for him, Hermione." He glowered at the Slytherin who had a cocky smirk plastered on his face. She forcefully pushed him down in his seat.

"Enough, Dean. Enough," she commanded, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a tiny squeeze. Her eyes never left Draco's; Neville stepped closer and motioned for Hermione to sit down as well. Professor Slughorn chose that moment to finally make his appearance.

"Settle down, class. I apologize for my tardiness; there were a few important matters I had to attend to." His robes billowed behind him, almost in the same manner as their last Potion's Professor. Hermione broke her staring contest with Draco with a huff, her attention now on the wizard at the front of the classroom.

Neville leaned over and patted Hermione's hand. She let a low hiss out from between clenched teeth and attempted to focus on the board, aware of a pair of eyes glaring at the back of her head.

* * *

Hermione walked with the group of Gryffindors to the common room that was being used for all the returning 8th years. Despite this morning's Potion unrest, she smiled widely for the first time in days. The piece of parchment she clutched in her hand brought reassurance that Harry and Ron were completely unharmed and safely tucked away with some high-end Order members. As much as she wanted to be with them and not stuck here, she knew she would sleep a bit better tonight having received some news from them.

"Hermione!"

Ginny Weasley rushed to Hermione's side, her own hand clenching a piece of parchment. "You got a letter too, didn't you?" She was flustered and out of breath, Hermione imagined she must have run all the way from her dorm. Hermione smiled, holding up her own matching note.

"Yes, _finally._ Took them long enough." Ginny engulfed her friend in a bone crushing hug.

"No kidding! I could just kill them myself for making us worry like that!" Hermione returned her friend's affection. She knew Harry and Ginny had barely broken the cusp of their feelings for each other the night of the final battle, only to have to be separated once more. She shared the redhead's sympathies, thinking of her and Ron's brief exchange of lips down in the Chamber of Secrets. A light blush formed on her cheeks.

"I know the feeling, Gin." She pulled away from her. "Don't tell me you ran all the way from the common room?" She asked in a matronly tone, giving her a disapproving glance. Ginny's smile only widened.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I simply walked very quickly." Ginny had definitely inherited the Weasley ability to slip between the cracks of punishment. Hermione shook her head at the excuse and tapped her nail against Ginny's Head Girl badge.

"You're supposed to be setting an example, Miss Weasley." Ginny flicked her finger away.

"Please, everyone knows it's you who should be wearing this anyways. I'm just for show."

Hermione couldn't help but feel her heart constrict as she stared at the badge. It was hard for her to accept she'd never officially wear the badge a full year. Her brief stint as Head Girl before the chaos of last year could hardly be considered accomplishment worthy.

"You're a good Head Girl, Gin." She reassured her with a loving smile. "And if I remember correctly, it's time for your rounds. It's getting late, go find some Slytherins to dock points from."

Ginny grinned like a mad woman.

"I don't know who you are or what you did with _our_ Hermione, but I'm rather fond of your idea." She turned on her heel and waved goodbye rushing off in the direction of the dungeons.

Neville, Seamus, and Dean all laughed at Ginny's retreating back and started to trudge up the stairs to their individual rooms.

"She's right though, 'Mione. That badge was as good as yours this year."

Hermione smiled weakly at the group.

"I couldn't possibly deny Ginny the honor of wearing it during her seventh year. She earned it."

Seamus shook his head vigorously.

"But you've earned it since birth. I'm pretty sure you came out of your mum's womb with the Encyclopedia Britannica in your hand."

"Careful mate! That's a big word for you!" Dean teased, earning a playful swat from his friend.

"Bugger off, Thomas. No one asked for your loud mouthed opinion. Save the sarcasm for your worthy opponents."

The group's mood darkened, remembering the earlier Potion's lesson.

"I really thought you were going to hex the balls off of Malfoy today," Seamus said glancing in Dean's direction. Hermione stopped to look at the group.

"The right git deserved it, talking to 'Mione like that." Hermione shook her head softly.

"Thank you, Dean," she stated, "But truly, I can fight my own battles. Especially against Malfoy." Dean's shoulders slumped.

"I know, Hermione. It's just...I don't understand how they can let that foul group back into the school."

Hermione's lips drew into a tight line.

"I really don't think they had a choice..." She trailed off, a heavy understanding settling over the group. They all exchanged looks, knowing what the unsaid words implied.

"We were so close." Neville finally broke the silence.

Seamus slapped his shoulder, "Next time we're just going to let you go after the Dark Lord with the Sword of Godric." He playfully jostled Neville with his elbow. Dean took the opportunity to jump up on the common room couch and mock out a sword battle.

"Oi! You bloody snake, come fight me! The great Knight of Gryffindor!" He melodramatically swung an imaginary sword. Seamus jumped in as a pretend Voldemort.

"Nooo! Not you, Knight Longbottom! I give up! I surrender! I have -" He dramatically dropped to the floor as Dean pretended to impale him with his sword.

"The mighty has fallen!" He proclaimed victoriously with a foot on Seamus' chest. A cheesy grin overtook his face. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the boys who always knew how to make any situation seem better. She wished not for the first time that Ron and Harry were here to see the show.

"Off to bed with all of you. It's getting late. I know your Transfiguration homework is nowhere near complete."

Dean helped Seamus off the floor and they all started to their own respective rooms.

"Yes Mother, Merlin forbid we don't do our homework."

Hermione gave the boys a slight glare.

"Off with you all. Scat!" She made a sweeping motion with her hand and pointed to their stairwell. They playfully ran up the stairs, heeding her warning. Neville paused at the bottom step to face Hermione.

"Have a good night, 'Mione. Please don't stay up too late," he said and Hermione smiled nodding her head.

"Sleep well, Neville. Thank you."

He turned and ran up the stairs quickly catching up with the other two. Hermione took the moment of silence to reflect on the day, and categorize her thoughts. She glanced around their huge common room, noticing all the house colors present in some shape or form. There weren't enough students to justify their own house's room, but each stairwell lead to their private chambers. Hermione was lucky enough to have a slightly bigger room having held the Head Girl position. She figured Draco also had similar accommodations from his time as Head Boy. As if the fates could be any crueler, his voice disrupted the silence.

"If that's how you fight a war, it's no wonder your side failed to prevail."

Hermione's hands curled into fists, her nails cutting small half-moon marks into her skin. She turned to the voice, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And what about your side, Malfoy? Are your savoring the fact that you've made it this far?" Draco took a long stride towards her, putting less than a foot between their bodies.

"My side, Granger? Who's to say I belong to anyone?" He retorted with his nose held high. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning away from the blonde with a huff of breath. She got exactly a pace away before a strong grip on wrapped around her wrist.

"I don't think we were finished speaking." He said slowly, in a tone that much resembled one he had used earlier in the day. Hermione felt her skin run warm under his touch; she spun around to face him jerking out of his grasp.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Malfoy."

Her eyes flared to life, Draco swore the fire in them wasn't just from the reflection of the fireplace. In fact, it was a look he had come to recognize over the years.

"I think you do, Granger. I want to know a few things."

Hermione knew nothing was holding her here, especially not fear, but she gripped her wand in her dominant hand anyways.

"What could you possibly want, Malfoy?" Her voice was low, thick with her visible annoyance. She watched as that classic Malfoy smirk graced his features. He took a breath to respond, the silence hung in the air.

"You've been tired lately, Granger."

Of all the things she expected to come out of his mouth, that reply was not one of them. She hid her initial shock with a scowl.

"How kind of you to notice." She replied in the steady tone she used earlier. Draco's smirk didn't falter.

Instead of replying, he studied her body language. She had truly changed since the first time he ever laid eyes on her. Her hair, still dominant, framed her face in large waves. Her skin tone had warmed, probably from many summers outside the Burrow with the Weasels. She had grown a bit, but was still standing a good couple inches below his height. His studious gaze reached her eyes. That was what had changed, he mused. The amber irises were now filled with a shadow he couldn't place. A slightly haunted and tired look he recognized as one he had seen in his own reflection. But there was something else in how she held herself, tall and proud, challenging more than she ever had.

"I don't know what you're up to, Granger." He finally said, breaking the humming silence. "But I would knock it off before you find yourself joining your friends six feet under." He didn't know why it came out as a warning more than a threat. Hermione seemed taken back at the tone for a slight moment before she regained her composure.

"I don't need any help from you, Malfoy. I honestly think you've ruined enough in your pathetic lifetime." She turned on her heel, more frazzled from their encounter than she'd like to admit, and they'd been more frequent than she ever imagined they would be. It was getting harder to hold in the secrets she knew, but as she rushed up the stairs to her personal hideaway, she didn't hear him make an exit. Instead, she heard the shuffle of cushions as he sat down near the fire.

"Strange," she mumbled to herself and rubbed her wrist, ignoring the tingling sensation she felt where his grip was just moments before.

* * *

Draco watched the flames dance over the wood in the fireplace. He had things to do: homework assignments, strategies to plan, bigger worries than the one that currently took over the forefront of his mind. A familiar feeling washed over him the moment he touched Granger. The same eerie magic that he had experienced in the garden with the VanArleston girl. The same rush of power he recognized. There was a connection there, one he thought he had all figured out. Whatever game Granger was playing, he knew she was determinedly guarding something. He cursed himself for not attempting to use Legilimency to divulge her secrets then erase her memory afterwards.

He released the tension in his fingers from gripping the cushions in thought, and extinguished the fire with a swish of his wand. Draco Malfoy was one of those people who, if he wanted something, and couldn't have it, no one else should either.

* * *

Hermione clasped the bracelet around her wrist, relishing the magic she felt rush over her body as she whispered the incantation to start the glamour. Even after all these years, Hermione had moments where she couldn't believe that magic, real magic, flowed through her veins. She wondered how she got so lucky, then would be swept away by the reality of it all. She watched her reflection as mousy brown turned to sun kissed blonde, brown eyes shifted into a pure blue.

For a moment, Hermione pretended she was actually Farrah VanArleston, Pureblood, playing for the dark side. In that second she realized how Harry must have felt, so close to giving in to dark magic. It was tempting; the rush of power was the closest thing she ever felt to being invincible. She pressed her eyes closed, preparing herself for the night's activities. She didn't know how she was going to do it, take an innocent person's life. This was not the Muggles' battle. They had no clue, and she felt hopeless.

Walking out to the apparition point just outside of Hogwarts grounds, she felt that same heaviness weigh her down.

* * *

They were screaming. Screaming so loud Hermione thought she'd never (be able to) forget the sounds that echoed through the ruined house. They were chosen at random, a small farm house in the middle of a field.

'So no one can hear them scream,' Hermione thought, biting back the tears that threatened to escape. She coughed back a bit of bile that was causing upheaval in her stomach. Blaise and Theodore wore matching scowls when they approached on either side of her. She raised her wand and her eyes said a million apologies as her lips spoke the killing curse.

Lucius Malfoy pushed through the cloaked trio to check the couple on the floor, kicking the male's foot out of the way of his path.

"I cannot officially say this, Miss VanArleston." He turned his eyes back to hers, her face falling into an unreadable mask. "But, I think once your hand holds these two dirty hearts, you will belong to the Great One." The amount of pride laced in his words made Hermione want to gag. She could do this, she had to do this. She _had_ to do this.

Hermione approached the corpses with slow steps; her blood was ice in her veins. Her pounding heartbeat was the only thing she could hear. She felt like her soul was being ripped from her body and she wondered how Death Eaters could do this so carelessly. The tip of her glowing wand was the only light in the dark room, her magical essence felt foreign with the use of dark magic. Her fingertips were numb. She started the words to a cutting spell when a pale white hand tore through flesh, muscle, and bone and with a rough yank pulled out a still-beating heart.

Hermione swallowed the bile in her mouth, and pressed her eyes tightly closed warning herself not to cry. She opened her eyes only when she was certain she would not cry. The first image she processed was the storm grey eyes of Draco Malfoy staring back at her. She tried not to look at the blood dripping down his wrist, the way the heart still throbbed in his hand, or the specks of blood splattered on his normally pristine face. She just kept a steady focus on his eyes, and for a split second, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of regret. It disappeared as soon as she saw it, the calm, cool mask sliding back into place.

"We couldn't let Miss VanArleston get blood on her beautiful dress now could we, Father?" Draco rose from a kneeling position to turn to his kin. He nonchalantly brushed the splattered blood off his robe then cleaned himself up with a quick flick of his wand. He held the heart out to Hermione with that same smooth look.

'_You Monster_,' she thought, frozen in place.

"One should do it." He said in an even tone, indifferently shrugging his shoulders as if he were handing her an apple instead of the human organ responsible for life. Hermione don't know what parts of her mind were working when she felt her palm raise just enough to securely grasp the ghastly thing Draco passed to her.

She wanted to drop it, run far away, and be sick for the rest of eternity. Instead, some survival instinct kicked in, she managed a twisted smile with a nod of approval.

"Thank you, Malfoy. You were correct, the dress is Indian silk, and I wouldn't want it ruined."

Both Malfoys nodded in understanding before Lucius stepped outside to send the Dark Mark roaring into the sky above. Hermione followed them out of the house, a whole pace behind them.

The night was an unforgiving cold, but Hermione couldn't feel anything.

* * *

AN: Another 4,000 words down! Whew. *Wipes brow* ^.^

Let me know what you think!


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